Karma Is A Bitch: An Urban Fantasy Action Adventure (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 12)

by Michael Anderle

  “It’s James Brownstone,” one man shouted.

  A woman pointed. “Woah, wait. It’s him, the Scourge of Harriken.”

  “Is he hunting a bounty here?” a teen asked. “Oh, man. I’m gonna get to see him kick some guy’s ass in person.”

  James ran past the ticket counter toward the turnstile leading into the park.

  The confused attendant blinked a few times at him. “Um, sir, I’m going to have to see your ticket. Even if you are, well, you, Mr. Brownstone.”

  James grunted. “Get me a motherfucking manager right away. We need to evacuate this park.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Another F-350 and two Expeditions rolled up to the front of the amusement park, each filled with heavily-armed bounty hunters.

  Trey was the first out and frowned as streams of people rushed from the park, some crying, but no one screaming. He looked up. No smoke. No distant sounds of gunfire or explosions. That was a good sign, and they still had a few minutes until the deadline.

  The other men and Maria disembarked, and Trey gestured toward the park and the sea of fleeing visitors.

  “Let’s go find the big man.” Trey rushed forward.

  The fleeing crowds parted for the advancing mass of bounty hunters.

  “Thank God, it’s the police,” shouted a man.

  “No, no, I think that’s the military,” another man called.

  “We’re the motherfucking Brownstone Agency,” Trey yelled.

  The men forced their way past the fleeing crowds and through the turnstiles until they arrived at a red brick plaza. A massive castle tower stood in the distance, and various paths of different-colored brick ran off from the main plaza. Electronic signs talking about everything from camera rules to events in other parts of the park filled the plaza, along with discarded wrappers, toys, and bags. The people fleeing weren’t doing their best to keep the park clean.

  James stood in the center of the plaza with a frown, his head moving back and forth, searching for enemies. His dog was on a leash that had been tied off around a nearby signpost. He barked and ran back and forth, his tail wagging in excitement.

  Trey blinked at the sight of the dog.

  James turned and jogged toward his men. “Deadline’s almost up, but most of the park is already cleared. There might be holdouts, so make sure you don’t fucking shoot anything that moves; only the Council or weird-ass monsters.” James frowned and looked at his men. “This everybody in LA.?”

  Trey shook his head. “Too short a notice, big man. Got other guys coming, but some of them are trapped way the fuck out there. You know LA traffic. Could go smooth, could be molasses. We’ve got fourteen guys total, not counting you and Maria.”

  James grunted. “We need to get a VTOL plane or a helicopter or some shit.” He nodded to Maria. “It’ll have to be enough. This is a simple job. Search and fucking destroy. You won’t be able to use your phones because I’ve got Heather blocking communications. I’ve got my fucking reasons if Trey didn’t already tell you, and I don’t want to go into the—”

  The entire area shook, and massive spires of scarlet energy shot up from different points in the park twitching and shaking, pairs reaching for each other. Swirling, scintillating portals appeared in the sky over the park, eight in total. The portals descended until the bounty hunters couldn’t see them in the distance.

  “What the fuck?” Trey shouted.

  The other men murmured excitedly.

  James narrowed his eyes. “They don’t look like the kind of portals the Council was using before. Anything might come out of those.”

  Maria shook her head and pointed as a father ran past, his toddler in his arms and his wife right behind him. “There are still way too many civilians in this place.” She pointed to the portals in turn. “Eight of the damned things, but they’re not all in one place. We should split into four teams and sweep the park. There’s got to be some way to knock out the portals, and we know some monsters or shit are about to come out.” She pointed to a huge map nearby. “Animal Town, Fantasyville, Robotown, and Princess Island. Four zones. Four teams.”

  Trey glanced at James. He made the call in the end, but Maria’s plan sounded pretty damned good to him.

  James grunted. “I’m my own team. I’ll take Animal Town.” He turned and started to jog away. “The rest of you do what you need to, but if you get outclassed, fucking retreat and find another team to back you up. Watch each other’s backs.”

  Trey watched his boss run off before shaking his head to clear it. “I’ll lead a team, Maria another, and Max the last team. Let’s do this shit, boys.” He pulled his rifle off his shoulder. “Time to save some childhood dreams, motherfuckers.”

  James charged along the colorful balloon-lined yellow-brick path leading into animal town. The plaza gave way to huge statues of animals both anthropomorphized and regular, along with more fleeing families and employees, none paying him the smallest attention. Several screams sounded in the distance, and he ran toward them.

  Fucking Council. Fucking He Who Hunts. What, you threw a few guys at me, and then fucking chicken out after that shit and pull this crap?

  Employees in animal mascot costumes rushed down the path, fleeing from a pair of what looked like alligator men. If it were a movie, the entire situation would have looked ridiculous.

  At least the Council is keeping this theme shit appropriate.

  James whipped up his .45 and put two rounds into each alligator man, hoping he wouldn’t need any anti-magic bullets. The monsters jerked and fell to the ground. He grunted, satisfied with the kills.

  There was a loud and distracting hum. One of the portals, most likely.

  He jogged further into Animal Town and growled. A pack of eyeless, mouthless, and naked pale-skinned humanoids with long spindly arms tipped with sharp claws rushed around the central square of Animal Town, splashing through the central fountain to throw themselves at costumed employees.

  The sound of tearing fabric filled the air, and if he didn’t know better, the sound of scraping metal. None of the employees were screaming, even though he could hear shouts and screams in the distance. They also weren’t moving. Were they already dead? He didn’t see much in the way of blood until he spotted a security guard slumped against a shave ice stand, his blood-soaked chest shredded.

  You fuckers.

  James emptied his .45 into the enemy, each ripper monster gaining a new hole in the head or the chest as he put them down. He slapped a new magazine in and frowned. Because of the time limitations he hadn’t had access to his full armory, only his emergency supplies in the truck—in this case a tactical vest, along with a combat knife, a few extra magazines, and a small number of grenades. The supplies also included healing potions for himself and a spare one for humans, and since he always carried one anyway these days, that meant two for him, but that would be more than enough in normal circumstances.

  I’m probably gonna need advanced mode to finish every Council asshole off.

  Insufficient energy for advanced transformation, Whispy Doom noted.

  James rushed over to one of the victims, a duck man in some sort of naval uniform. He blinked once he looked down. He assumed the anthropomorphic duck was one of the employees in a costume, but now that he was close, he could see the exposed circuitry. Just a mindless robot. Quick checks of the other downed characters confirmed the same. The stupid Council monsters had wasted time killing machines, meaning there was only one real victim in the square.

  He glanced again at the dead security guard, then noticed the man’s chest was still rising and falling James hurried to the victim and pulled out his human healing potion.

  If I die later, pal, you better name your kid after me.

  James forced the man’s mouth open and poured the potion down this throat, watching and waiting. Thirty seconds later, his wounds closed, the security guard’s eyes flickered open, and he shot up, eyeing the bounty hunter with suspicion.

  �
��When you die, the first person you see in Heaven is James Brownstone?” the man asked. “Or, shit…am I in Hell?”

  James grunted. “I’m not dead, so why would I be in Heaven or Hell?” He pointed in the general direction of the front gate. “I’ve got teams sweeping the park, starting from the front. It’ll be safe as long as you head that way.”

  The security guard nodded. He glanced down at his shredded shirt and ran a hand along his unmarred body. “I thought…they killed me. You used magic?”

  “Something like that,” James rumbled. “Now get the fuck going,”

  The guard sprinted away.

  James frowned and stood. He and his teams needed to hurry up before more people got hurt. After a quick check to confirm the enemies had stayed dead, he jogged toward the source of the hum.

  He winced as he came up to a decapitated rabbit character sitting in a pool of black and blue fluid. Even though he knew it was nothing more than a robot, there was something very unsettling about seeing the headless mascot.

  The humming grew louder, and reddish light shone from around a nearby building, the Hall of the Perky Penguins.

  Wonder if Alison would like this? Nah, she’s too old. Glad I never bought those season tickets I was thinking about when she first moved in.

  James grunted and ran toward the hum. He turned the corner to find a swirling portal, along with a half-dozen more eyeless rippers. Two more emerged from the portal and they all turned toward him, raising their claws and hunching.

  He holstered his pistol and pulled out his knife. “Bring it, assholes. You’re not so fucking tough. If you were, you wouldn’t be attacking an amusement park like a bunch of pussies. Should have just come at me.”

  The rippers loped toward him, and James bellowed out a challenge and charged. He slammed a boot into one. It flew, and its head crunched against the brick wall of the Hall of Perky Penguins. A slash of his knife took out most of the neck of another.

  Gunshots echoed in the far distance from multiple directions. The other teams were engaging their own monsters or wizards.

  Several rippers surrounded James and slashed at him with their claws. They shredded his clothes and the blows stung, but the attacks only left scratches.

  Near maximum adaptation previously achieved for attack, Whispy Doom reported. Kill enemies. Find stronger enemies.

  James smashed a ripper’s head into the ground with a free hand, enjoying the satisfying crunch.

  Working on it, Whispy.

  James slammed his elbow into one right behind him before stabbing another. The creatures continued their efforts, but blow after blow from James ended their sad, twisted lives until a tangle of bloodied bodies with twitching limbs was all that surrounded him. The only thing they’d accomplished was adding new holes to his shirt.

  Two more rippers emerged from the portal. He rushed toward them and finished them with two quick stabs to the head.

  James grunted and looked at the portal. Two energy streams were still feeding into it, but their sources weren’t nearby.

  Need to shut this shit down, or it’ll just be Whack-a-Mole forever.

  He sprinted away, following one of the streams. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted more rippers emerging from the portal, but they didn’t rush for him. Maybe he had to be closer for them to sense him.

  James ignored the creatures. He could come back and kill them later. The most important step of the mission would be to cut down on reinforcements. He focused on following the energy stream until he found the source, a rock with a pulsing crimson energy field.

  Sample energy for adaptation, Whispy Doom demanded. Adapt. Grow stronger.

  James was about to argue with the amulet but shrugged and sheathed his knife. “Why the fuck not? Just more Council shit. I’ve already adapted to most of it anyway, and don’t even have to kill anyone.”

  He touched the energy stream and pure pain burned through him. His body jerked and flew back several yards. It wasn’t until he landed that he realized his hand had been vaporized.

  A long hiss followed.

  James grunted and tried sitting up, the pain blinding and darkness clawing at the edges of his vision.

  Well, shit. That’s a new one.

  A flickering thought of using Alison’s wish passed through his mind, but he pushed it away. It wasn’t his. It was his daughter’s, and he wouldn’t waste it because he’d let a little mistake almost get the better of him. Besides, Whispy Doom liked to talk a good game. Time for him to help when it didn’t come to combat.

  The good news was the wound had been cauterized. At least he wouldn’t bleed out even if he passed out.

  Do something, James demanded. If I pass out here, some damn Council asshole might be able to take me out.

  Insufficient time for regeneration, Whispy Doom responded. Recommend supplemental healing via external means. Combination should be sufficient for limb recovery.

  Gritting his teeth and trying to push the pain out of his mind, James took several deep breaths and fished out one of his healing potions. He downed it and waited, unsure if it’d work. He’d had fingers cut off before and managed to hold them in place while a healing potion worked, but not full limb regeneration. If this didn’t work, there would be a very expensive visit to a witch or wizard in his future.

  The pain began to fade. Silver-green metallic tendrils, the same as with his armor, extended from the burned stub. They shifted color, turning white and forming layers of bone. Over the course of a minute the bones of his hand regenerated, then the layer of muscle, then his skin to form a completely new hand.

  James flexed his new hand. No pain at all. He found himself surprised, and far less angry than he’d been only a couple minutes before. Not only was he less angry, but he was also fascinated. The potential combat implications of what he’d just done weren’t lost on him at all, even if he only had one more healing potion for the job. He’d need to be a bit more careful.

  Could you do that shit without the potion?

  Limb regeneration possible, Whispy replied, but energy- and time-intensive.

  Good to know, not that I’m planning to let more assholes cut me up or touch shit like that. Please tell me you’re adapted to that energy at least. The fuckers might blast it at me.

  Partial adaptation achieved. Additional exposure not recommended in current tactical situation.

  James snorted. He pulled out his gun and fired a few rounds at the rock. They struck and bounced off with sparks, the pulsating stream unaffected by the attack.

  “Fuck.”

  Any ideas?

  Insufficient power for advanced mode.

  James yanked a grenade off his vest. If he didn’t have his armor blade or armor cannons, this might be the next best option. He pulled the pin and threw it toward the rock. It exploded and the stream vanished, even though the rock only looked charred.

  “Good enough,” he muttered.

  He grinned and cracked his knuckles. With Heather disrupting the communications at his request and no way to see the other portals from where he was, he could only hope the other teams figured it out.

  James turned to verify the collapse of the closest portal. Although there was no portal in the distance or even the second energy stream anymore, a group of twenty rippers slowly circled him, preparing for an assault.

  Guess I took too long to blow that shit up.

  After getting his hand burned off and regenerating it, a pack of monsters who couldn’t do more than tear up his clothes didn’t worry him at all. He holstered his pistol and readied his knife.

  Kill enemies, the amulet admonished. Find stronger enemies to maximize adaptation. Achieve primary directive.

  James grunted. Thanks to his amulet, he’d burned off his hand. Sure, it had grown back, but the damned amulet was only worried about finding new sources of damage to adapt to. Not even a little “Sorry about that, man, I gave you bad fucking advice.”

  The bounty hunter snorted. There would be
time to worry about that later. He threw himself into the pack of rippers, becoming a whirlwind of death. Although the enemy attack finished off the ragged remains of what passed for his shirt, they paid for it with their lives.

  James wiped his bloodied knife on his pants. “At least one portal down.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  More insect men scampered toward Trey’s team, the sun glinting off their dark carapaces and their massive mandibles clacking together. He couldn’t help but be unnerved by their still-human-looking eyes.

  “Why can’t these fuckers just use normal-ass guys?” Trey shouted as he put a bullet into the head of one of the charging creatures. At least the damned monsters didn’t require an anti-magic bullet to put down. A pile of dead monsters covered the path to the Castle of the Dream Princess. He’d love to see a few shots of that scene on the advertisements for the park.

  Lachlan slapped in a new magazine and shook his head. “We took out the first portal. Just need to find the second and then we won’t have to do as much fucking pest control.”

  The other men grunted in agreement.

  Several high-pitched screams cut through the air.

  Shit. There are still normal people in the park? Guess you can’t empty out that many people and not have a few left behind. Time to prove how badass the Brownstone Agency is.

  They sounded like they were coming from the castle, a three-story structure with a façade that resembled an ornate Renaissance-era castle, including multiple turreted towers with balconies. The team rushed toward the castle, hopping over the ropes and stanchions.

  A man in a robe stood near the front of the castle, his clear wand glowing bright green. He spun toward the bounty hunters, frowning, and flung out his wand. A thick green liquid appeared and flew toward the men.

  “What the fuck is that goo?” Trey shouted and jumped out of the way. The liquid coated one of the ropes near him, hissing and burning through it on contact. It was a deadly acid, and he doubted the anti-magic deflector would save them. They’d learned that the hard way when dealing with the Council before.